The King and His Maiden
by wonderwoundedhearers
Summary: "Since the first moment I heard you sing, I have wanted you – I will never stop..." How it all began. Prequel to The King and His Queen. O/s.


"Yes, Father!" Isabella called back into the house – she heard an answering grunt, and closed the front door behind her.

She took in a breath of sweet Italian air, straightened out her long off-white dress and started down the pebble path from her family's cabin. Isabella looked out over the vast, green countryside and sighed – she loved it here…no, she _adored _it. But if her father had his way, she would never see it again.

The wood cabin was situated at the very edge of a forest, and Isabella had grown up loving the nature that surrounded her – the lush grass, the beautiful flowers, the ancient trees, the spectacular valleys and hills…

Her father's words rang through her mind, "_Never mind the hills, child! You need to marry! You have always been an odd one, Isa – you don't worry about your father needing the money that will come from your marriage, you worry about the birds having enough seed!"_

Isabella was nearing nineteen, and she had not yet 'caught' a husband – Isabella snorted as she reached the end of the path and started off down the dirt road to the town. She had not married because she did not want to – at least not for money.

Isabella was not a hopeless romantic, like the simpering Rosaline sisters in town – she had simple needs, simple tastes…she just wanted to be _wanted_. She wanted a man to see her qualities, not just her pretty face.

Isabella had inherited her mother's lovely heart-shaped face and womanly figure, and her father's dark brown eyes and hair – many had complimented her on such attributes, but none said how quick she was, physically and mentally, or how learned she was… She was a woman, and women were for breeding and showing off.

Isabella scowled under the hot sun at that thought – she had taught herself how to read and write, how to calculate and converse, but she was only seen for her family or her looks.

"The only reason I walk to town is to see Franco," she muttered sarcastically – her father was eager for her to tie herself to a merchant, and Franco had been hounding her for years.

He was reasonably wealthy – at least two rungs above her family's own wealth – but he was a notorious drinker, gambler, and womanizer. Her father saw nothing wrong with his doings, and Isabella had once thought the same – until she _saw_ Franco enter into some of the activities aforementioned.

Her father insisted on her still visiting him, but Isabella never did – every time her father told her to go to town and visit Franco, when he was there, she would take the long road to town and turn off it into the lush, empty fields that lay on the outskirts. There she would lie until the sun disappeared and she had to be home – she would always tell her father the same story; that Franco had not asked for her hand no matter how much she simpered and flirted.

He would always tell her to go back another day and try harder, and Isabella would always nod and then go and lie in the fields.

Isabella smiled as she saw the small stile leading into the field that she loved the most – it was full of wild flowers of all different colours and she loved to lie in them under the sun.

Isabella lay down in the long grass, her fingers threading through it at her sides, and she thought…

She thought of her father, Edward, and how his troubles began with her and her…_different_ ways – Isabella had been called flighty, odd, fickle, wicked… In truth, she was just a free spirit – no matter her father's faults, he had shouldered the blame when she did things such as this. For example, when she played with the boys of the village when she should be at home, or when she began learning as only men could, or when she would wear dresses that were out of fashion or completely made up by her own mind.

Isabella dearly loved her father, especially after her mother passed when she was young – she knew that he was only pushing her because he loved her and he worried for her future.

Ever since her father's family came from England, there had been problems engraining themselves into the Italian world – her family was welcomed, but disliked.

Isabella had been born within the cabin she called home, shortly after her mother and father's wedding – but despite gossip, it was truly a love match. Her mother, Giaciana, died before she could birth any brothers or sisters – so Isabella was alone, and that is what caused her imagination to flourish and her to become 'different'. She had hardly any friends, because they had been married off, or their parents forbade them to see her, or they were not let out of their houses as she was.

Isabella sighed, letting her hair fan out around her head – that was another thing that she was disliked for; her hair. Poets and artists had extolled the beauty of hair such as hers that fell in natural, dark, silky curls, yet people disliked her for keeping it down – _women are meant to wear it up, in a fashionable style not loose like a common whore_…

That was the last thing she had heard from the dressmaker in town before she had been thrown from the woman's shop – expressing her views on women's clothing had caused others to pick out 'faults' that Isabella had, and there were many worse than that.

Isabella was well-known as the local eccentric.

She smiled, looking up at the flawless blue sky – that was one thing she enjoyed about the people who lived in town, they gave her a title that she did not mind keeping.

"What is wrong with being eccentric?" Isabella murmured – she thought eccentrics to be bright and amiable people, not the insane scoundrels that others made them out to be.

Isabella stopped thinking after that – she just relaxed and enjoyed the sun on her face. Isabella enjoyed the way the cool breeze played over her heated skin – she could not understand why other women did not want to spend time appreciating nature as she did.

Isabella wished she had someone to share this with.

After a moment or two, she felt her lips part and a song well up in her chest – she began singing softly, as her mother had taught her to do. The song was one she knew well – a song her mother had sung to her every night…

"_Il mio amore mi è stato inviato oltre l'oceano,__  
><em>_Il mio amore è stato portato dal mare.__  
><em>_Una notte, mentre ero sdraiata sulla spiaggia,__  
><em>_Il mio amore ha trovato la sua strada per me._

_Ho guardato la roccia barca,__  
><em>_Ho guardato il rotolo onde,__  
><em>_Ho visto il fulmine nel cielo.__  
><em>_Gli Dei sono stati proteggere il mio carico,__  
><em>_Che giaceva nel petto della vela da uomo…_"

* * *

><p>"I will return shortly," Aro murmured to Caius – there had been some trouble with the werewolf population in neighbouring towns and villages to Volterra, and Caius had persuaded Aro to let them see to the problem.<p>

They had slain all in the vicinity of Volterra, and in daylight so they beasts could not change form – they had one more town to comb through, and Aro knew that those in his Guard and Caius would do well enough without him. He wanted to enjoy the day and the weather freely – it was not often that he left the castle.

Caius eyed Aro thoughtfully, before nodding and following the Guard from the forest in which they had slain the last werewolf and burnt his corpse.

Aro turned from the smouldering carcass and set off in a random direction – he could hear no humans in the vicinity, and the sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy above his head was free to play off of his skin.

He enjoyed nature and all its wonders, and as he ran through the forest he took in all the sights, sounds and smells.

"_I suoi occhi erano come l'acqua,__  
><em>_Un blu profondo che ha rubato il mio respiro.__  
><em>_Il suo corpo è stato plasmato in marmo,__  
><em>_Uno spettacolo da ricordare fino alla mia morte…"_

Aro stopped as soon as he heard that beautiful voice singing softly, his dead heart pulling in the direction that the singing had come from – it was as if the words were just for him…

"_Da quel momento in poi,__  
><em>_Non potremmo mai essere separati.__  
><em>_I nostri cuori sono stati combinati,__  
><em>_Il nostro amore era stato avviato…_"

Aro crept towards the edge of the forest, seeing nothing but grass on the other side – where was that delightful voice _coming_ _from_? He listened harder, hearing a softly beating heart, working lungs and full veins – his mouth automatically pooled with venom, but his unsatisfied curiosity overrode his bloodlust.

"_Ogni momento con lui è stato il mio primo e il mio ultimo,__  
><em>_Ringrazio il mare per portare il mio presente, il mio futuro e passato."_

There was a soft female sigh, and Aro finally spotted the singer – there, in the grass, laid a beauty.

Her mahogany curls shone under the sun – he could see vibrant strands of crimson and gold, and his fingers ached to touch the long, silky hair that lay fanned across the grass. Her face was the picture of beauty – even though she was human, and prone to human flaws, she was utterly mesmerising. Her lips were the purest shade of pink, and her cheekbones were high and refined. Her skin was creamy and soft-looking, and her body held the air of an elegant woman with her luscious curves and slim figure. The cut and colour of her dress seemed to accentuate her beauty, but he wondered why such a pure-looking young maiden wore off-white.

White was reserved for those who were pure and virtuous, generally virginal – Aro wondered how such an angel could be anything but.

The wind suddenly shifted, playing with the grass and letting her scent drift towards him – Aro hummed in appreciation as his nostrils were filled with a berry and floral scent.

It was then that dark-haired angel spoke. "Have you come to cart me away?"

Aro cocked his head to one side, wondering if she was speaking to him – when she raised her head from her grassy pillow and turned her gaze on him, he knew she was.

Her eyes were the deepest brown he had ever looked upon, and he felt as if those eyes could look into his very soul.

"Speak, Sir – has Franco sent you?" The girl questioned, lying back on the grass once again.

Aro stayed in the shadow and safety that the forest offered, and said softly, "I do not know of whom you speak."

"Come, Sir," the girl sighed. "You are not of this town – your garb is too fine, I do not know your face and I find it hard to believe you came upon me by accident."

Who was this girl, who spoke with elegance and wit that matched her beauty?

"You converse well for a young maid," Aro said, moving to the very edge of the shadows. "I suppose your family is rich and well-learned."

The girl made a noise of displeasure. "Nay, my family is broken and partially poor. I am surprised that you do not know I taught myself after getting an earful of the town gossip – my name is oft on their tongues."

"Taught yourself?" Aro enquired, a smile playing on his lips.

"I taught myself to read and write as well – I can understand many things, Sir."

"Yes, and you can sing, too." Aro smiled.

The girl sighed. "A gift from my mother. Now, come – what have you to tell me? Does Franco ask for my hand? You can tell him that I would rather die an old maid."

Aro laughed at the girl's brave speech. "I know not of this…_Franco_."

The girl sat up then, and looked at him carefully. "Your fine clothes mean you are a merchant or of the gentry – I hardly think a gentleman should be walking through the woods and happen upon me."

"I am a gentleman." Aro smirked, falling into a graceful bow. "And I enjoy a walk, as any man should."

The girl stood. "I know of no man who enjoys walking." She curtsied perfectly as she grinned at him. "You must be the only one of your kind."

"I think it true," Aro replied, and before he could stop himself, he asked, "And why is a maid like yourself lying in a field? Should you not be at home?"

Her eyes flashed with undisguised offense. "I suppose that you are used to women staying indoors, fawning over their husbands, and birthing children all year long?"

Aro said nothing, merely looking at her and enjoying the fiery spirit the girl had.

"I am surprised you have heard nothing of me – I thought the first thing you would see upon entering the town, was torches and pitchforks heading towards my home." She laughed.

"Why?" Aro asked.

She watched him carefully before answering. "I am a menace according to the townsfolk – I have been called many things, but 'menace' and 'disgrace' are their favourite taunts. I, apparently, turn their children insolent, when all I do is teach them how to think for themselves. I want no one else to be caught in a life that they do not want, and be stuck with marrying a foolish man."

Aro did not like the things the girl was saying, but he smiled. "And this Franco is your fool?"

Her brow furrowed. "You really have not been to town… You must be a complete stranger – the first thing anyone will tell you to do is not go towards my father's cabin." She shook her head slightly. "But yes, Franco is my fool – a more stupid man never existed."

"You are a strange one," Aro murmured, thinking that he had never met a woman with so much worth and fiery determination.

She smiled faintly. "Another thing I hear daily. But tell me why you come here?"

"A simple walk led me towards you, and your singing brought me the rest of the way," Aro said.

She moved forwards slightly. "Why do you stand in the shadows?"

Aro stepped back, disliking the turn in the conversation. "My skin…can be sensitive to sunlight."

She nodded, looking Aro over again. "Well, I suppose I must depart." She looked over her shoulder. "The sun is dying, and my father will expect me home soon."

She curtsied, sending Aro a small smile, and began walking to the other side of the field where there was a small wooden stile.

An aching in Aro's stomach at the girl's retreat caused him to call out. "What is your name?"

She turned, and from his position, with his sharp eyes, he could see her amused smile and sparkling eyes. "Isabella."

With that, she disappeared over the stile and along the lane.

Aro stood, staring for a few moments – why had a simple maid caused so much disruption inside him? But then she was not simple – he had never met another woman like her.

He turned on his heels – he inhaled the last lingering particles of her delicious scent to memorise, and he promised himself that he would find her later this day when the sun had sunk over the horizon.

* * *

><p>Isabella picked at a long blade of grass as she walked up the lane to her father's cabin – she was considering the strange, dark-eyed and haired man she had met. His shirt, doublet and overgown were of the finest materials – all black with an edging of golden embroidery.<p>

Isabella had only seen one man who wore such fine clothes, and that was Franco – so it made sense for her to assume the man was in collusion with him, as he had just 'stumbled upon her,' did it not?

She could not help but curse herself – of course there were other men out there who wore fine clothes and were not involved with Franco! But then, how had the stranger found her? She did not believe his story of simply taking a walk in the woods – he was a complete stranger and he stopped on his way into town for a walk? Not just that, but Isabella could hear no carriage near by or any horses, and the main road was an age from where she had lain – the man was impossible.

Isabella was roused from her thoughts, as she heard an angry roar from the cabin – she looked up to see the sky had darkened considerably while engrossed in the man she met, and that the cabin was glowing with too much light for just her father residing inside.

He had guests.

Isabella scanned the cabin, and there outside the back door, was a very familiar horse.

"Franco," she breathed.

Another roar sounded. "_What_!"

Isabella cringed, her heart racing in her chest – her father was not an angry man, but when his temper was roused…

The cabin door swung open, and her father's large frame occupied the space – his dark eyes were alight with rage, and Isabella could see his hands shaking.

"Get inside, child," he said quietly, dangerously…

Isabella paused for a moment, knowing his rage would be much greater if he saw her hesitation – she lowered her head demurely, and walked into the cabin.

The main room was lit by a roaring fire, and by the hearth Isabella could see Franco in her father's seat with his feet resting comfortably on a warm animal fur.

Franco's grey eyes danced with mirth as he looked at her, giving her a bright, sneering smile past his greasy, brown hair – he wanted Isabella, but she knew that her refusal had wounded his pride.

The man was full of nothing if not pride.

Her father slammed the door behind her, making her jump slightly – Isabella backed away from her father's rage, as he shook and trembled.

"Isa, I have been patient with your ways – have I not?" Her father asked, his jaw clenching as he tried to restrain his anger.

Isabella nodded, knowing that her father had been good to her even if she disliked what he asked of her.

He growled. "Then why have you _lied_ and ignored my instructions? Franco here has told me he hasn't seen you in two seasons! And yet he is still willing to offer you marriage! Why, Isa? Why have you disobeyed your father?"

"I do not wish to marry, Franco," she said quietly. "I do not want a loveless marriage, and he is…a _scoundrel_."

Franco smirked slightly, only in Isabella's field of vision – she knew Franco was aware that Isabella had seen him on his 'business'.

Her father roared. "You are _wrong_, child! Franco is rich, clever and amiable!"

Isabella shook her head, looking up at her father. "I saw him leaving Signora Roselli's!"

It was a place that no woman other than Isabella and those that stayed within its walls knew of – it was the town's secret whore-house. Isabella had stumbled upon it one day on her walks, and the drunken men leaving through the door had been most explicit of what lay inside in their stupor.

A hand suddenly connected with her face.

Isabella was knocked to the ground, and her head twisting at an awkward angle from the blow made her lip break open upon impact with the wooden floorboards.

Her eyes were wide and her breath came fast, she raised a hand to her cheek in disbelief. "You…_struck_ me…"

Franco looked amused in his seat by the fireside, and her father had not lost _any_ of his anger – in fact, he looked even _more_ furious.

Her father hissed. "Why am I burdened with such a child?"

Isabella stared up at her father, wondering why he was acting this way – they loved each other very much, and this wasn't the man she knew he was. She felt hot, angry tears well up in her eyes, and she stood up on shaky legs as she backed away from her father towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" Her father roared, his eyes flashing black with anger.

Isabella did not touch her bleeding lip, nor her stinging cheek – she would not give this monster the satisfaction. She opened the door behind her as she held her father's gaze, and looked up at him with a strong expression and an unwavering gaze.

"I will leave you to calm yourself," Isabella said firmly. "When I return, I will speak to you then."

With that, she turned and flitted down the path from the cabin.

She heard her father begin to follow her, but was stopped by Franco. "I will talk to her."

Isabella walked faster, not touching her face and not even wincing when her tears ran over her cut lip. She heard Franco behind her, and she had no desire to speak to the man that had incited her father to hit her – true, Isabella had lied to her father but Franco should not have gone to him and told him so.

He had let him hit her! The man had no honour!

Isabella swiftly turned, darting into the forest like a white bird in the moonlight. She knew the forests like the back of her hand, and she easily made her way towards a small clearing she knew of – she could not hear Franco's footsteps behind her anymore but her pace did not slow.

Isabella loved the forest at night – it was silent, yet full of life. There was only an occasional rustle, or glimpse of white tail, and soft leaves gradually fell to the forest floor around her. She carefully avoided the curling roots that were exposed from the soil, and knew that the clearing was just ahead.

As the happiness of that thought passed through her mind, it was replaced by fear – it was instinctual and primal.

Isabella's eyes darted around the dark forest, and its usually-warm atmosphere had evaporated – it was silent, too silent, and eerie. She knew that she was not alone in this place anymore, and her back ached like the weight of someone's gaze was resting on her.

Isabella broke out into the clearing, looking around with panicked eyes and quick breaths, when she heard something…

"_Isabella_," came a sudden voice, and an arm wrapped around her waist from behind.

She gasped and spun to face Franco – his smile was menacing, and his grey eyes were stormy.

"You should have taken my offer, Isabella," he whispered, pulling her body to his.

Isabella pushed, but she felt weak from the knock her father gave her and the adrenaline that had coursed through her veins – Franco laughed darkly at her poor attempts to remove his hands from her.

Franco pressed his cheek to hers, whispering into her ear. "You ran from me, to a place where you cannot hide and I know well – where do you think I do some of my more…_sinister_ dealings?"

"The forest?" Isabella gasped, disgusted – her innocent playground was a place for Franco to deal illegal items and take honourable women who could not be had at Signora Roselli's.

He did not have to say exactly what his dealings were, but she knew – she had known for a long time.

Isabella's fury rose up and she turned so she could hiss into his face. "Do you think I will marry you? You are stupid if you think so! I know about your whores, your gambling, and your illegal activities – why do you think I stopped seeing you in the first place?"

Franco smiled slightly, though Isabella could see his displeasure at her words. "A wife is for breeding and for showing off – though you are pigheaded and flighty, and sure to produce children that are similar, you can be taught."

"_Taught_?" Isabella shrieked indignantly. "I am not a slave, nor a child, nor a whore! I will be spoken to with _respect_!"

Franco hissed. "Close that pretty little mouth, Isa, or you shall feel my rage as your father made you feel his."

Isabella felt her lip sting as she bared her teeth at him in anger. "Go ahead, Franco. I care not. You can beat my body, but I shall _never_ be your whore!"

He raised his hand, and it was a shadow against the full silver moon behind it as it came down. Isabella braced herself for the hit, but it never came.

She opened her eyes, surprised to find them closed, and was met with a sight that chilled her blood but put a fire in her heart.

* * *

><p>Aro glided through the forest silently – it was dark, the moon full in the night sky, and he was making his way to his brother. He had followed Caius to a small village, and he could hear the sounds of that village being torn apart by the raiding vampires' thirst.<p>

Aro's thirst was not great – his brother was so over-emotional that his need to feed was far greater than Aro's. So Aro stood by the edge of the forest on a hilltop, waiting for his brother and the Guard to finish their feed.

He thought of Isabella as he waited, and he knew he would ask his brother to accompany him to her home – Aro wanted Caius' opinion on the girl and why Aro felt so keenly for her already. He was…brilliantly intrigued by her.

Eventually, he saw his brother flitting towards him, his snow-white hair gleaming in the moonlight.

Aro smiled as he drew closer. "Did you enjoy your feed, Brother?"

Caius smirked slightly, dabbing at a spot of crimson in the corner of his mouth. "Of course, Aro. Now, why do you stand here alone? I assume you wish to speak to me privately."

Aro nodded, seeing the Guard assembling at the bottom of the hill – he spoke to them. "Go south – we shall meet you at the pre-arranged point."

They followed their orders immediately.

Caius watched Aro's face, and Aro knew he could see a change.

Caius murmured. "What has happened, Aro? You look…different."

Aro let his conflict rise to the surface in his expression, and his brother's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Come with me," Aro breathed, flitting into the forest and taking in the scents around him.

It was surprising how often he crossed Isabella's scent in this forest – he knew that if he simply followed the most recent trail, he would find her home.

Caius glided along beside him. "Aro?"

"I met a maiden," Aro whispered, his voice turning quite small as he looked into his brother's eyes.

Caius nodded. "Did you drink from her, kill her? But that occurrence is not worthy of your expression, Brother – something unusual, perhaps?"

"She is _quite_ unusual," Aro replied, with a small smile.

"Gifted?" His brother asked.

"Nay, not gifted… Well…I do not know – I did not touch her. I have not seen her memories," Aro said, picking up a fresh trail of her scent.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caius' nostrils flare.

"That is her scent you smell, Caius," Aro murmured, enjoying her wild berry fragrance and that floral essence that came with it.

"She is all over these woods," he said, frowning at Aro.

Aro nodded. "She lives nearby – in fact…"

He was cut off by a loud, hissing voice. "Do you think I will marry you? You are stupid if you think so! I know about your whores, your gambling, _and_ your illegal activities – why do you think I stopped seeing you in the first place?"

Aro could hear two hearts ahead of him and his brother, as they came upon a clearing – Aro's chest ached when he recognised the furious voice as that of Isabella.

"A wife is for breeding and for showing off – though you are pigheaded and flighty, and sure to produce children that are similar, you can be taught," a male voice said with palpable amusement – Aro hissed at his insult.

Isabella shrieked. "_Taught_? I am not a slave, nor a child, nor a whore! I will be spoken to with _respect_!"

Aro silently flitted forwards, Caius right by his side, and he stood in the shadows at the edge of the clearing and looked upon the scene presented to him. The male with Isabella was tall and thin – he looked untrustworthy and eel-like, with a face that only a mother could love.

The male hissed. "Close that pretty little mouth, Isa, or you shall feel my rage as your father made you feel his."

Aro really saw Isabella then, crushed against the man like a caged dove in her white dress – he growled when he saw her face. It was distinctly beaten – her lip was bleeding and her face was bruised, but she looked ferocious and Aro felt pride well up inside him with his anger.

Caius whispered, almost silently, "I assume this is your maiden."

Aro nodded, not taking his eyes from the girl. "_Isabella_."

Isabella bared her teeth at the man, pure fury shining in her eyes. "Go ahead, Franco. I care not. You can beat my body, but I shall _never_ be your whore!"

The male raised his hand, and Aro moved before he knew what he was doing – he saw Isabella brace herself for the man's strike, and then Aro's fist was closing around the man's wrist as Aro's other hand grasped his throat. The male's grey eyes watched him for a moment, before Aro bared his teeth and snapped them at him – the man whimpered, his eyes showing fear as Aro's hand squeezed his neck harder.

Aro saw Isabella open her eyes, and when she saw it was he, she gasped.

Caius was beside Aro in the next moment, hissing in his ear. "This is unwise, Brother. You interfere in trivial affairs that do not concern us – I care not if the maiden is beaten."

"_I._ _Do_." Aro growled at his brother.

Caius' red eyes widened in shock, and Aro saw his reflection in his brother's eyes – he looked feral in all his anger, with black eyes and venom-coated teeth.

Caius turned and looked down at Isabella with disbelief – she was staring at Aro with wide, sparkling brown eyes.

"How can I thank you?" Isabella breathed, and Aro found that her delightful voice brightened his mood instantly, though her attacker still squirmed in his hold and was sharing his memories with him.

"You may sing to me when I ask it of you." Aro smiled, blocking his mind from the vile man's thoughts.

Isabella inclined her head to the side in acceptance, with a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "Of course, Sir."

Caius looked back at Aro, and Aro saw intense shock and realisation play across his face – then he whispered, only for Aro to hear, "She is your _mate_."

Aro dropped the man in his hold, and the male sprawled on the ground. "_What_?"

Caius nodded, their conversation growing loud enough for the humans to hear. "I know it, Aro. There is no other explanation for your behaviour, and the look on your face earlier… I wore the same look as you when I met 'Dora. I was bemused, intrigued…and then enthralled – it grows and masses, Brother, into something…incomprehensible."

Aro knew of mating, but he had never experienced it – his other brother, Marcus, had not either. But Caius had, very recently, and Aro brushed Caius' hand to see what he was thinking.

When his thoughts rushed through Aro's mind, he saw what his brother was saying – Aro's and Isabella's eyes seemed to…_sparkle_ at each other.

Aro turned his head back to Isabella, only to find she was not standing where he had last looked at her – she was standing over the male a few yards away. Her boot was pressed against his sternum and her curls were wild about her face – she looked glorious.

Isabella hissed at the man, who had obviously been crawling away. "Tell me."

He coughed once, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse from Aro's hold. "Vittoria."

Isabella laughed, and there was not an ounce of humour in the sound. "And the _buyer_?"

"Another merchant, goes by the name of James," the man sighed – Aro had not an inkling of what they were speaking about.

Isabella's foot pressed harder. "And would you have done that to me?"

Whatever the question meant, Aro could see an affirmative answer in the man's eyes – Isabella let out a noise between a sob and a growl.

"My father?" She asked.

"He knew nothing," the male said gruffly.

"Then who?" Isabella breathed, her anger fading into hurt.

The man's face twisted, and his features showed pity. "The…town."

Isabella stepped back, taking her foot off of the man's chest – her hands came to her face and covered her mouth as she looked down at him in shock and horror.

She slowly shook her head from side-to-side, and breathed, _"No_…"

Aro had had enough of their private conversation and Isabella's hurt was affecting him in a way he had never felt before – he moved forward a fraction and gently pulled at Isabella's bare hand. He _had_ intended to pull her hand from her mouth and read her thoughts at the same time – only one of those things happened.

Isabella turned to Aro, tears shining in her eyes and beginning to roll down her beautiful face – Aro waited patiently for a moment, knowing that any second he would know the matter troubling her.

But her thoughts never came.

Aro frowned, his other hand coming up to cup Isabella's in both of his – he pressed them tightly together, but nothing came to him. There were no memories, thoughts, words, images, fantasies…

Absolutely _nothing_.

"_Assolutamente stupefacente…_" Aro breathed, and Isabella's deep brown eyes watched him with awe and fascination as Aro's eyes watched her similarly.

Caius grew impatient behind Aro, and Aro whispered to him. "_I cannot read her thoughts_…"

Aro heard Caius' intake of breath, but his eyes were solely trained on the beauty before him.

He watched Isabella's face turn hurt again as she whispered. "I cannot believe this…"

"What has happened, amore mio?" Aro asked, not letting her hand drop and completely oblivious to what he had just called her.

Her dark eyes pierced his and he felt his breathing hitch in a very human way…but that was before he had heard what Isabella had to say.

"I was to be sold," she breathed on a soft sob. "The town paid Franco to marry me and then sell me on as he wished."

"I would have made money with your body in many a country!" Franco sneered gruffly. "Italian beauties fetch high prices, no matter how wicked their tongues – just like Vittoria, Isa, your mouth would not have been used for talking ever again."

Aro saw pure red.

He strode like Lucifer himself to the side of the man who would have sold his mate's body – Franco took a fearful, shuddering breath, and it was his last.

* * *

><p>Isabella watched, with wide eyes, as Franco was torn to pieces before her.<p>

Aro, the blonde-haired man had called him, tore Franco's throat out and forced him to the ground by his arm before ripping that arm from his body. His other arm was pulled away next, and then Aro swiped his head clean from his body as he panted through blood-spattered lips.

Isabella did not quake, did not move a muscle, and she found her breathing had hardly increased its pace an inch.

Aro turned slowly.

His gaze locked with hers, and she found his eyes to be jet black – she still did not move.

Nothing broke the silence, and the stillness lasted until a growl suddenly sounded from behind her – she whipped around to face the blonde-haired man, but the noise did not come from him…

The noise came from the hulking beast behind him.

He spun and dropped to the ground in a crouch, hissing in an animalistic way that sent a shiver of fright through Isabella – though the silver fur and yellow fangs gleaming in the moonlight at the edge of the clearing had her more afraid.

The wolf skulked forwards.

The blonde-haired man hissed and growled in obvious warning, but the beast did not stop – its eyes rested on her.

The beast licked its lips.

Stone-like hands suddenly came around her and pulled her back against an equally stone-like body – she gasped at the contact, the word 'impropriety' sounding in her mind.

But then, when had she ever shown an ounce of care for propriety? And did propriety mean anything in such a situation?

Her mind was filled with confusing thoughts, each sillier than the last – she supposed it was the contact she had with the beautiful man behind her, but she knew not.

She only knew his touch was…soothing, in some way, and that she felt safe.

But the wolf had other ideas for her than to see her safe – it growled in hunger.

Suddenly, Aro lifted her into his arms.

Isabella gasped, but said nothing else – her mind was too clouded by the unusual feelings that were coursing through her vulnerable body.

Aro's chest rumbled with incoherent words against her, and she heard an unusual noise coming from the blonde-haired man still placing himself in front of the beast – it sounded as though they were conversing.

Suddenly, Aro began to move away – he strode backwards, and Isabella's mind instantly cleared.

"Sir! You cannot leave him! He will be devoured!"

His blood-spattered face looked down at hers with a small smile. "He shall be fine, _Isabella_."

A shiver threatened to roll down her spine at the way he had pronounced her name, but she was not a woman to be beaten by a silken voice – she tried to free herself from his arms, but they were locked around her and completely immovable.

She had no choice but to look up into his eyes. "What are you?"

He grimaced a fraction. "You shall know soon enough."

With that he disappeared with her into the trees, leaving the blonde-haired man to his fate.

* * *

><p>It was hours later that she awoke.<p>

Isabella gasped, sitting upright and finding herself staring into the shadow-covered face of Aro.

She was being rocked from side-to-side, and from the corner of her eyes she took in her surroundings as that of a lavish carriage – but she did not remove her gaze from the gentleman opposite her.

"When did I fall asleep?" She found herself asking him softly, her tone no less polite than it usually would have been even with the circumstances as they were.

She could feel his eyes burning her.

"Almost as soon as we left the clearing," he answered just as politely, but with velvet tones.

A thought struck her. "The gentleman – is he safe?"

Her heart ached with the thought that he may have laid down his life for _her_ – Isabella knew she was worth something, as everyone was, but not another's life.

She saw the shine of his eyes flick to the right – her gaze followed his, and she found herself looking out of a small circular window in the door of the carriage.

A flash of white skin and a shock of blonde hair illuminated by moonlight suddenly greeted her eyes – the man that had faced the wolf rode upon a horse alongside the carriage she and Aro occupied.

"Thank you," she murmured to him, bowing her head deeply.

When Isabella looked up again, she saw a small smile curled his lips – he then rode forwards until she was unable to see him.

Her eyes regretfully returned to the man opposite her – there was an energy around him that scared her…but there was something in his gaze that deeply thrilled her.

"Why do you shake so?" He asked softly.

Isabella looked down at her hands to see that she was shaking, terribly so. "I do not know. Perhaps it is because I am in the carriage of a strange man and it was not long ago that I saw that very same man tear another's head from his body."

Aro leaned forward – Isabella did not move as his face was truly revealed to her eyes, unveiled by the shadows that had previously darkened it from her view.

"My name is Aro, and you shall be accompanying me back to my home."

"I do not have a say?" Isabella asked, her ire beginning to rise.

Aro inclined his head. "Where would you have gone for the night? What would you have done?"

Isabella stayed silent for a few moments, not knowing the answer to his question.

Aro smiled softly. "You would have stayed in the forest, would you not?"

Isabella knew her eyes gave away her answer to the question he asked, though her mouth did not move.

"With the wolves," he stated, his voice sounding colder. "Do you not realise the danger you put yourself in? The forests are not safe – they are rife with beasts that will consume you whole."

Isabella tried not to narrow her gaze as she defiantly stated, "I have killed more than my share of wolves, _Sir_. I am no innocent little girl."

His eyes burned with rage. "You are weak, especially compared to them…and I saved you myself not so long ago, or do you forget?"

Isabella fumed. "I am not weak! Franco would have beaten me, verily, but I would not have died and I would have found a way to escape."

"You should not _need_ to escape!" Aro hissed, a shadow crossing his face that was not due to light or the lack of it.

Isabella sat back further, her spine rigid and her fingers tightly woven together in her lap. "Why is my life any concern of yours?"

Aro mimicked her posture, returning to the shadows so that all Isabella could see was the shine of his eyes, "Soon, perhaps, you shall see."

* * *

><p>Isabella did not know how long they travelled for, tiredness veiling her mind too much to think clearly – however, she was aware when they had moved from countryside to town.<p>

Noises and smells perforated the air, and she heard people gasping at the sight of the carriage – she barely refrained from peering out of the circular window once more, thinking that gawping at the people as they passed by would be in bad taste.

She avoided looking at the man opposite her, choosing instead to sit in silence at look at her feet.

The carriage rocked and bounced over cobbles, hooves noisily clippity-clopping, and she felt the carriage tip back as if they were moving up a hill.

Soon it came to a stop all together, the noise from town all but a distant memory.

Aro removed his eyes from her and turned the gilded handle of the carriage door – it swung open to reveal a courtyard of sandy stone.

Aro stepped down from the carriage with such fluidity and grace that Isabella was sure few women could achieve such a feat – then his hand appeared before her a moment later, beckoning her to quit the carriage as he did; she did so with her spine straight and her eyes straight forward.

She did not stumble.

She felt Aro's eyes on the back of her head, but did not look at him – her gaze found another's…

"_Bonjourno_." The man her eyes had fallen upon smiled.

Isabella stayed perfectly still for a moment, taking in his long wavy brown hair and masculine features – he was just as beautiful as Aro and the blonde-haired man, but his eyes seemed…softer.

Isabella quickly curtsied, realising she must have been staring for far too long – as her head bobbed down she shut her eyes and cursed herself.

'_Fool!_' She thought. '_What will they think of you now?_'

"Forgive me," she murmured aloud, keeping her gaze on the ground in respect – his clothes were fine and his air was distinctly educated.

Everyone she had seen were so far above her own station – she was so poor and she did not understand why Aro had taken her, why the other had saved her…or why an elegant finger of the man before her was suddenly deigning to touch her skin, lifting her chin.

As his gaze found hers, he seemed to _playfully_ raise a single eyebrow. "What is there to forgive? You do not need to ask for such a thing."

Isabella could not help but grin.

The man seemed to like that. "A sparkling smile…_and_ a beautiful aura."

She smiled wider, and all of a sudden her lip stung with a sharp and fierce pain – she felt blood roll down her chin from her lip where it had split open once more.

Isabella quickly wiped her chin, apologising profusely. "Forgive me. I fell earlier, and I had forgotten the damage done."

The man shook his head, his smile forgotten. "You do not need to tell untruths here."

Her eyes shot to his. "That was not an untruth. I do not care for lying, and it serves me no purpose."

He just looked her over for a few moments, before murmuring. "My name is Marcus, and it pleases me to meet you, Isabella."

She did not ask how he already knew her name.

Aro's hand suddenly ghosted over her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. "Follow me to your new chambers."

* * *

><p>It was a castle.<p>

Isabella had heard of such structures but she had never ventured far out of her town enough to see them with her own eyes – now she was living inside of one.

Three days had passed since the night she arrived and she had not seen another soul since Aro had closed the doors behind himself as he left her chambers.

She could not leave – it went without saying.

Aro had given her a fleeting glance and she had known from then that she was now his – no matter she had a father or her own life; he wanted her and so she was his.

He was her better in every aspect, and she could not tell the man no.

Only her mind and heart were locked away from him, and they would not be given over like her being – if he was half the man she had seen when he gazed at her so softly, then she knew that her mind and heart would be given to him willingly. However, if the silent, commanding, brooding leader was his actual persona…then the key to them would be lost forever.

Isabella was so lonely in her lush paradise of a bedroom – it was furnished in all the finest velvets and silks, but then she did not care for such things.

She longed for company.

She sat at the large window in her room, looking over the town that crowded around the outer walls of the castle – there were people down there that she could see, speak to, and delicious smells swirled up to her on the warm breeze.

She had awakened from her first night in Volterra to find food waiting for her, and every morning and evening the same happenstance would occur – she would leave the main room of her chambers for a moment and then when she returned the carved wooden table to the side would be heaving with food, treats and wine.

Isabella sighed, and closed her eyes against the warm air that caressed her face and ran through her long locks – everything was so wasted on her; she needed little and she had not touched the clothes that had awaited her in the large closet, except for a simple nightdress.

Then she heard…

"No," she breathed. "I couldn't have."

The sound came louder, and she spun from the window to gaze excitedly at the door to her chambers…where three more knocks sounded.

She practically danced to the door in her happiness.

Isabella pulled it open and beamed. "Come in!"

There was a woman with long blonde hair, and Isabella cared not that she did not know who the woman was – she was _someone_.

Her dress was exquisite, her face fine, and her eyes dark – Isabella knew she must be a wife to one of the three gentlemen she had met.

A voice inside her cried out at the thought of the woman being Aro's wife – her smile dimmed a little at that thought.

The woman did not smile, she simply stepped past Isabella into the room and let Isabella shut the door behind her.

"My name is Athenodora," the beautiful woman stated. "I am married to Caius."

_Caius_ – the blonde-haired man who had saved her life, she had learned previously, was named Caius.

Her chest lost the tightness that had gripped it a few moments ago, and she smiled fully.

"I am Isabella," she murmured, curtseying slowly in respect.

Athenodora seemed pleased with the action. "You know your place."

"Of course," Isabella breathed, a tiny frown creasing her forehead at the statement.

Suddenly Athenodora smiled widely, the first time Isabella had seen. "Well, you shall have to learn your _new_ place – queens do not curtsey to each other; we are of the same station."

Isabella's eyes widened.

Athenodora nodded knowingly. "He is a king, and you are his queen. I have come to tell you to ready yourself. He will take you tonight."

Without her permission, a smile tugged at the corners of Isabella's mouth. "We shall see about that…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's note<strong>_:_I truly and honestly tried to capture the right speech for this century, but it didn't look or sound right to me, and it took twice as long to write. My flashbacks in the other story were without some of the correct terms, language and stuff… So, anyone who reads this and thinks 'Hmm, this doesn't sound like it's set six-hundred years ago' – yeah, I know, so hush (: I may also be writing a sequel to 'The King and His Queen'. We shall see… All reviews are welcome and appreciated! Let me know what you think (: Peace!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Translation<strong>_: _My love was sent to me over the ocean,_

_My love was carried by the sea._

_One night as I lay on the beach,_

_My love found his way to me._

_I watched the boat rock,_

_I watched the waves roll,_

_I saw lightning flash in the sky._

_The Gods were protecting my cargo,_

_That lay in the chest of the man sailing by._

_His eyes were like the water,_

_A deep blue that stole my breath._

_His body was fashioned from marble,_

_A sight to remember until my death._

_From that moment on,_

_We could never be parted._

_Our hearts were combined,_

_Our love had been started._

_Every moment with him was my first and my last,_

_I thank the sea for bringing my present, my future and past._


End file.
